Cuffed
by Jael K
Summary: A run-in with time pirates leaves Sara and Leonard a bit, ah, closer than they planned for a few days. But maybe they can have some fun with this if they can just deal with the feelings they've both been ignoring. (Set in an extended Season One.)


**Author's** **Note**: Yeah, I know I have other things to write. But I decided to play with a favorite trope and...this started! Not sure how many chapters yet.

* * *

"_How _do you two get yourselves in these predicaments?"

Sara, still glaring at the captain, turned her wrist from side to side, feeling the cuff locked around it securely. Too tight to slip out of, even if she dislocated her thumb, and no way they've been able to figure out to disrupt the connecting energy field. "It wasn't _us_, Rip. Those goddamned time pirates..."

Leonard is, of necessity, so close that she can feel the deep breath he takes before adding: "...had us outnumbered and outgunned, thanks to _you_." The irritation dripping off the words manages to cloak just how unsettled by this he is. Mostly.

Rip takes his own deep breath, folding his arms. "Yes, I made a misstep, believing that they may have truly had a few surviving Time Masters on board." Something flickers in his eyes, regret and maybe even grief, but Sara pretends not to see it. "But they're gone now. No harm done."

"Save some damage to the Waverider's systems and Mr. Snart and Ms. Lance's plight," Gideon cuts in, just a bit tartly. The AI, Sara thinks, has become more her own...well, person...since the Vanishing Point's destruction, and isn't that interesting?

Rip hangs his head in a vaguely guilty way that neither Sara nor Leonard's ire had drawn out of him. (Also interesting.) "Yes, well." He studies the cuffs another moment. "Mr. Rory, thanks to his time as a bounty hunter, should be able to get you out of those. You just have..."

"...to wait until he gets back," Sara finishes with a sigh.

"Which might be days," Leonard growls. He moves his hand restlessly, moving Sara's as well. The time pirates hadn't even cuffed them in a way that would let them stand side by side, but had cuffed right wrist to right wrist and made things even more awkward.

At least, Sara thinks, they'd been able to maneuver so she could stand in front of him. While Leonard's shoulders make for rather a nice view, that had made things even more awkward.

"Yes," the captain admits. "I'm sorry. But..."

They hear their incoming teammates before they see them. While Mick and Ray are out on the jumpship on another mission, the others are still here, and either hadn't run afoul of the time pirates or hadn't been quite so outnumbered.

"What..." Jax very nearly skids into the room and stops short, staring at Sara and Leonard—and the rather obvious pair of handcuffs linking them. Then he barks out a laugh, smirking, and Sara sighs, closing her eyes. It's rather nice, having a surrogate little brother on the ship—until a situation like this.

Jax has already been pestering her about the status of her...whatever it is...with the crook. He's going to have a field day with this.

"Oh dear." Stein has entered behind his partner-in-Firestorm. He peers at the cuffs, looking just a little amused. "The pirates? Were they..."

But Leonard's apparently done with telling the story. He lifts his hand (lifting Sara's too, of course) and gives the cuffs a shake.

"Can you work your transmut-whatever trick on these?" he asks a bit harshly.

Sara hadn't thought of that. She looks hopefully at the pair as Rip makes a thoughtful noise. Stein and Jax glance at each other before the latter shrugs and holds out his hand, dissolving into Firestorm as Stein takes it.

Then he steps forward as Leonard and Sara extend their arms, putting a fiery fingertip on the cuff on Leonard's wrist.

Nothing happens. Jax/Firestorm frowns, keeping his hand there a long moment before pulling it away and shaking his head. Leonard sighs as they separate again, and Sara glances at him briefly before looking back at their teammates.

Jax is studying the cuffs, looking a bit puzzled.

"Nope," he says, shaking his head. "I dunno what that's made of, but it's not having it."

Stein peers at them. "It's a rather fascinating material. May I..."

"Maybe when we're not attached to them," Sara mutters. She glances up at Leonard. "I need a break from this. You?"

His eyes are shuttered in a way they haven't been in a long time, with her. "Lead on, Canary."

* * *

Leonard's been wondering how to go about getting closer to Sara for a while now. This, is, however, not even remotely what he'd meant by that.

Not only is it enforced physical closeness, not chosen by either of them, he's still wincing away from the way he'd panicked when he'd woken up on the floor of the corridor and felt the weight of the cuff around his right wrist.

It makes no sense, really. It's not like he's a stranger to cuffs, after all, and he hasn't been for decades. He can get out of them in almost all circumstances; he can even fight quite well in them if he needs to. It should have just been an annoyance, just one more bit of necessary information toward working to get out of whatever situation they were in.

Instead, the panic had been followed almost immediately by a wave of remembered agony, one that crested on a feeling of intense nausea as memory asserted himself, the chill of the ice, painful in itself but almost reassuring compared to what happened after...

Reason, for the moment, had abandoned him. Leonard had jerked his arm toward himself, frantically flexing his fingers, trying to assure himself that his hand was restored, that the awful, choking pain was only in his memory.

His arm was there. It _was_ there.

And something—someone—was attached to it.

In the present, Leonard sighs-inaudibly, he hopes. His strangled noise and convulsive movement had woken Sara, whom he'd last remembered fighting at his side against the time pirates trying to take over the ship. Her arm had been bent under her awkwardly, and his motion had hurt her. She'd make a noise herself, half a cry of pain and half a groggy curse, and that had been enough to bring Leonard back to himself.

Rip's best guess had been that the time pirates had been planning to either take them with an eye toward some sort of bounty or had simply wanted to keep them out of the way until they could figure out who on the ship was who. Still, there were only a few of them, and Leonard and Sara had wounded or taken out a couple—and once the rest had run into Firestorm and Hawkgirl, it'd been all done.

Too bad the others had pitched them back onto their ship before realizing what had happened to Sara and Leonard.

His sigh had, apparently, not been inaudible. Sara, who's walking ahead of him down the corridor, turns her head to look back, sympathy—ugh—on her face. She's holding her arm sort of behind herself, apparently to give them a little space, and Leonard's holding his arm out stiffly in front of himself, but they're still close. And what would be welcome in other circumstances isn't nearly so much when it's not by either of their choice.

"My room's closer," Sara says quietly. "OK?"

He's no stranger to her room—although, again, not in the way he'd like. "Yeah."

At least it's her. The notion of being this tied to one of the others…he can't help the visceral shudder the thought causes, even though he even likes some of them now. Not even Mick—they may be close, closer than either would once have admitted, but they're not touchy feely. Too many harsh reactions to such closeness, over the years.

Sara, though, sees the faint movement and…and there's that sympathy again. Not what he wants, damnit.

But this isn't about what he wants. And so he says nothing.

* * *

There was no way Sara could have missed the shudder that wracks Leonard as she slows and he comes a little closer. It hurts, a little—she'd thought that by this point, they were friendly enough that her physical presence, even this close, would be welcome. Actually, she'd thought certain kinds of physical closeness would be _more_ than welcome.

Still. He'd never brought up "me and you" again. Perhaps she'd misinterpreted it.

The last thing she wants him to do is feel as uncomfortable as he's apparently feeling. Leonard's become a friend, a very close friend, as this quest to destroy Savage has continued. And that means a lot to her. More than any type of physical…closeness.

That's what she's telling herself.

Damnit.

The door to her room opens as she nears it, and Sara moves inside quickly, knowing at this point that even if the barrier closed between them, the force field connecting the cuffs would continue to work. The technology would be sort of interesting, she supposes, if it wasn't being used on her. Them.

Leonard follows with alacrity…well, he doesn't have much choice. As the door slides shut, Sara starts to turn to face him, only to remember that would wrap his arm around her and pretty much put them nose to nose. She swallows the thoughts that elicits and maneuvers so that her arm is wrapped around herself instead, a bit awkwardly but safe enough.

When in doubt, go with humor.

"In a way," she tells him, "Rip has a point. It's always us, isn't it?"

It does get a faint snort. "Depends how you define 'it,'" he mutters, looking down at his wrist and then back up at her.

There's something… Sara's rueful smiles melts into a frown. "You OK?"

Silence. His eyes are downcast again and he's studying the cuff around his wrist with a frozen…no pun intended…expression.

"Len?" Sara bites her lip. "I'm sorry. I know this is…"

"I'm OK," he cuts in bluntly. "I'll manage. I…" A longer pause, though he still doesn't look up-or unfreeze. "The problem. It's not _you_."

She has to believe that. But…

Sara looks down at where Len has his other hand wrapped around his wrist-and then it finally strikes her. It hasn't been so long…not so long at all, mere months…since he'd gone through a fairly extreme amount of physical trauma, trauma caused in a way by the man he'd once considered his only real friend. Yes, he'd made the choice to…to do what he'd done…but that didn't change what had happened.

Oh. Oh, she'd completely disregarded that. And there's no way he's not thinking that he might have to…

Sara takes a step forward, reaching out to put her hands on both sides of his face before he can pull away.

"Leonard," she says, then, forcefully, "_Len_."

After a moment, his eyes lift to hers. Guarded and wary, and that saddens her, but it's him, and that's what she wants. No point in prevaricating.

"If it comes to that, I'll do it myself," she tells him, knowing he'll understand. "No, don't shake your head at me. Once is enough in any lifetime, to go through that, and…" Sara takes a deep breath. "The League taught me any number of advanced…advanced pain management techniques. And Gideon can work her regeneration tricks…"

The AI cuts in gently. "Mr. Snart, Ms. Lance," she says quietly, "I wish to assure you that I am doing everything in my power to make sure it doesn't come to that."

A moment of quiet. Then Sara lifts her eyes from Len's frozen gaze. "Thank you, Gideon," she says quietly. "I…we appreciate that." She pauses. "Len? Look at me?"

It takes a moment, but his eyes meet hers again.

"How are we going to manage this?" Sara asks calmly. "I know…I know you don't like contact. But…"

* * *

Leonard decides, suddenly, that he needs Sara to know that that's not it. That's not the issue, not in this circumstance. He takes a deep breath and then gives her a look from under his lashes, reaching for his habitual cool and the bantering relationship they usually share.

"It's not that," he drawls, letting a slight smirk touch his lips, shrugging when Sara gives him a slightly surprised and skeptical look. "The, ah, possible contact." His voice drops. "It's all right with you. But I know you didn't choose this either. And that's…not how I want it."

More surprise flickers in Sara's eyes as she stares at him. Leonard keeps his gaze level, trying to project sincerity for once. And finally, she lets a smile touch her lips too.

"Ah," she says quietly. "Good to know." A pause, during which she looks down at their linked wrists. "I didn't, of course, but…I'm glad it's you."

For a moment, they teeter on the edge of what even Leonard can tell is a _moment_. Which means, of course, that he panics and falls back on innuendo.

"Hey, if you wanted to be this close to me, Canary, I'm sure we could have worked something out that didn't involve…hardware."

Sara lifts an eyebrow at him, smirking. "I dunno," she murmurs, "there are funner things we could be doing with handcuffs."

It's enough of a surprise that he barks out a laugh—and the potential moment's past. For now.

"Well, maybe we revisit that thought when we both have a choice about it," he drawls just a little suggestively, a careful step toward a subject he's avoiding since before the Vanishing Point exploded, then immediately changes the subject. "Mick and Raymond should be back within a couple of days. I'd hope."

"I don't think I'm quite that optimistic." Sara allows the change of topic with a sigh, shaking her head and then starting to reach upward with her uncuffed hand. "Crap. After working out, then fighting and _then_ laying in my own drool for a while, I could really use a sho…"

She stops, and for a minute, they very intently don't look at each other. Leonard, for his part, is trying not to react (voluntarily or involuntarily) at the idea of Sara naked in the shower in any capacity, but she's right too. This is the sort of practical concern they're going to need to deal with.

He'd like to wash up too, natural fastidiousness unsettled by the idea of refraining until they can get free. But…

Practicalities, Len. "Also got some wardrobe concerns."

Sara blinks at him, then looks down at the purple top she's wearing and apparently registers that she'll have to cut it off if she wants to change clothes—if she can even do that. "Damnit. I like this one." She sighs again. "Are we sure there's no way of reaching Mick and Ray?"

"Hunter says not. Take that for what it's worth." Leonard watches her a moment, seeing a patch of blood (not hers) on her jawline and the sweat marks on her top. Doesn't make her any less attractive, but he can sympathize with the desire for a wash. "And more notably, Gideon backed him up."

"Damn." She gives him that rueful little smile again. "I'd like to at least go wash up a little. OK? No need for anything more…revealing…right now."

He's going to be lucky if he survives this. "As I said…lead on, Canary."

* * *

Well, well, well.

Sara reflects on Leonard's rather unexpected words as she leads him down the corridor toward the bathrooms. Both the ones that skirted around feelings, and the ones that had referred to more…physical connection.

She finds herself rather intrigued by both, actually. Apparently he's still interested, after all. And if nothing else comes of this incident…well, there's that.

The bathroom is deserted. Sara puts her soap and washcloth down on a sink and glances over her shoulder at Leonard, who's standing close behind her.

"They couldn't have used our left wrists, could they?" she mutters, turning on the warm water a bit awkwardly with her left hand.

He smirks at her from far too close for her own equilibrium. "Speak for yourself," he says quietly, reaching out himself to hold his own cloth into the stream of water. "I'm pretty much…ambidextrous."

The voice is nearly a purr, and it's impossible not to consider what he could do with that…dexterity. "Well," she retorts, facing forward again but tilting her head back a little into him, "it's not like the League didn't train us to use both hands…for _anything_ we need."

Leonard coughs a little and Sara smirks at the fact that she'd managed to unsettle him again. She wets her own washcloth, brushing his left hand as she does so—their linked right hands are still hanging at their sides—and brings it up with a sigh to wipe at her face, trying to remove the worst of the dirt, blood and sweat before actually washing. Leonard, she thinks, is doing the same.

Adding soap, of course, means bringing another hand into it.

Cautiously, Sara moves their linked hands over, picking up her bar of soap and lathering up her washcloth with it. That means pretty much moving Leonard's arm around her, but he doesn't say a word. Still, his breathing is distracting as she pauses, puts the soap down again, and reaches up to wash.

She makes sure to reach down into the bit of cleavage the top exposes, too, since she may or may not get a shower anytime soon. Leonard's breathing speeds up. That's…fun..

When she rinses out the cloth and hangs it up, though, he clears his throat and reaches for the soap himself. Sara glances up into the mirror as he carefully wipes off his face, eyes closed and mouth a wry line, and…hell if that's not oddly attractive. Well, Leonard is, and she knows it, but she doesn't get much of a chance to study him so closely. That jawline, the edge of stubble, those cheekbones…

The amazing blue eyes that are now looking at her with amusement.

Sara smirks back instead of glancing away, and the corner of Leonard's mouth twitches. He rinses out his washcloth and hangs it up too, then looks back at her.

There's no way this should have been as arousing as it was. How are they going to get through the next few days again? Sara clears her throat.

"Enough for now?" she asks.

Leonard shrugs a little. "I could use some rest if we can figure that out," he admits. "It's getting late, ship's time. Ah…"

"Your room this time, Snart. It's a lot neater."

* * *

Leonard's never particularly minded the Waverider beds before, but now…well.

He and Sara study the bed before Leonard sighs and brings his boot up to brace it against the edge. He gives Sara an apologetic look before pulling her hand over with his to help him untie and remove one, then the other.

Sara, who'd just kicked off her own shoes, gives him a wry smile. "OK," she says. "You prefer to sleep on your back or…?"

An unusually loaded question, Leonard knows. He's already spent too much time thinking about this. In far too many permutations. "Don't care," he manages.

He generally sleeps on his side. But if he does that, they'll wind up sleeping spooned, an intimate posture that he's not so sure either one of them are ready for. Or are they?

"Either is fine," he adds abruptly. "Back, I suppose. Could go with either."

Sara studies him, then nods. If she realizes the reason for his sudden abruptness, she doesn't mention it. She nods toward the bed, and Leonard, figuring logistics quickly, nods, clearing his throat and lying down, stretching out on his back by the wall, cuffed right wrist held a bit awkwardly by his side.

She slips into the bed, stretching out next to him without a word, her own wrist so close to his, by necessity, that they could hold hands.

They don't.

After a moment, Leonard quietly requests that Gideon turn down the lights, which the AI, ever talented at multitasking, does immediately.

By the sound of her breathing, Sara falls asleep fairly quickly, despite their plight.

Leonard does not.


End file.
